


Christmassy Days

by LittleMissO



Category: Holby City
Genre: Christmasy fluff, F/F, Fluff without Plot, More Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissO/pseuds/LittleMissO
Summary: Bernie, Serena, Guinevere, fluff and Christmassy fun. What more could you want. All 25 2019 Berena Advent prompts in one fic? Coming right up....
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 20
Kudos: 66
Collections: Berena Advent 2019





	1. Chapter 1

Impossible though it seemed, it had been a full year since Jason and Greta had been married in the hospital grounds by a rather outlandish and eccentric vicar. A full year since Bernie had walked out of Albie’s after Serena had called time on their relationship. A full year since Bernie had waited for Serena back home. A full year since they had talked – really talked. A full year since they’d got their relationship back on track. A full eleven months since Bernie had returned from Nairobi for good. A full eleven months since Bernie had moved into Serena’s house. It had been one of the best years of Serena’s life, and Bernie felt the same. 

Jason and Greta’s first wedding anniversary was the reason that Serena and Bernie were being graced with an overnight visit from Guinevere. Serena and Bernie had gifted the happy couple a might in the luxury spa hotel just outside Holby, and part of the gift had been taking Guinevere for the night. Since her return Bernie had rapidly become a favourite with the toddler. Guinevere was at that age where she was into everything and her Great Aunty Bernie encouraged her on every exploration and adventure. Great Aunty Serena provided calm, cuddles and a safe and comfortable lap – not to mention she was prone to spoiling and indulging the adorable bundle that was her Grand Niece. Staying with her Great Aunts was little Guinevere’s idea of heaven. When her parents had dropped her off at her Great Aunts’ house after lunch she had toddled in, happy as anything, and headed straight for the box of toys that were kept in the living room especially for her. It seemed she barely noticed her parents saying goodbye and leaving, so engrossed was she in setting out her dolls, teddy bears and stuffed Bagpuss, in a neat row. 

With it being so close to Christmas Serena had decided on a day of festive themed activities for the three of them. She wasn’t sure if she’d had more fun planning Guinevere’s visit than Guinevere was going to have actually doing them. It was certainly possible. Serena had seen Jason and Greta safely on their way to the hotel, leaving Bernie to keep an eye on Guinevere as she played. She decided to pack Guinevere’s bag whilst she and Bernie were occupied. The small but spacious bag, emblazoned with cartoon characters Serena didn’t recognise, was soon filled with drinks, snacks, wet wipes and the wide variety of paraphernalia essential for taking an 18 month old anywhere. Ready to go Serena headed back to the living room to see if Bernie was ready to make a move, but when she walked into the room she found she didn’t have the heart to say anything. More accurately she was far too taken aback with the scene in front of her to say anything. It seemed that Bernie was teaching Guinevere to march, but unfortunately Guinevere’s walking and co-ordination skills were not advanced enough to cope with swinging opposite arms and legs together. The closest she seemed to be able to manage was moving her right arm and stamping her right foot at the same time. It looked more like she was having a tantrum than marching. It didn’t seem to matter to the little girl though, because it appeared that the aim of the game wasn’t for her to learn to march, but for her dolls to learn. She was periodically telling them “like me” and “you march”. It was clear that one doll had got it very wrong and had earned themselves a sternly wagged finger. The sight was so comical that Serena wasn’t able to stifle the giggle that was bubbling up in her chest. The sound caused Bernie to whip round to face her, a matching smile on her face as she gave a shrug of acknowledgement at the absurdity of the image that had met Serena on her entering the room.

Guinevere, on hearing her Great Aunt laugh, had abandoned her marching and toys in favour of running to Serena and demanding “up”. Serena was only too happy to sweep the little girl up into a big hug, and from there to settle her on her hip.

“Are you looking forward to all the fun we’re going to have today?” Serena asks and receives a very serious nod in reply.

“Then let’s get you coat on, get you into the car – and your Aunty Bernie - then we can go.” It takes both adults a few minutes to get Guinevere bundled into her coat and then into the car, but they’re soon on their way singing along to Gunivere’s Incy Wincy Spider CD.

Their destination, a garden centre on the outskirts of Holby, doesn’t take long to get to. The three of them, hand in hand with Guinevere between the two adults, head across the gravel car park towards a large marquee erected on a field on the far side of the main garden centre building. Neither of the adults can resist the temptation to swing the tot high in the air between them as they walk. They’re more than happy to sweep the little girl high into the air, drawing excited screams of delight from Guinevere and causing knowing glances to pass between the two adults.

When they arrive at the doorway Guinevere is enchanted by the tinsel clad frame, the model reindeer standing guard outside on the fake snow and the overly sweet snowman keeping him company. When they make their way inside Guinevere lets out an “oh”. The fabric of the marquee is peppered with glittery snowflakes and dotted with fairy lights, and for an 18 month old it’s pure magic. When a very friendly elf; complete with pointy ears, bells on the end of her hat and tips of her shoes, and sporting a vivid red and green tunic and tights ensemble, appears in front of them Guinevere grips Serena’s hand a little more tightly. The elf bends down so she’s on the little girls eye level and says

“Have you come to see Santa? Guinevere is far too busy taking in every detail of the elf in front of her, and absorbing the fact that the this strange and magical being was actually talking to her to reply. She does however, squeeze both her Great Aunts’ hands – Serena’s for comfort and Bernie’s for courage. 

“We are indeed.” Serena answers for her and hands over their booking confirmation.

“Ok then, if you’d like to come with me I’ll take you to Santa’s Secret Grotto.” the elf says as she holds back the curtain over the doorway and ushers them inside ahead of her. The ante room she shows them into is warmly heated and bedecked with fairy lights and tinsel. Guinevere looks around in wonderment before declaring

“Pretty.” 

“Glad you think so.” the elf says kindly. “There’s a cloakroom with lockers if you’d like to leave your coats.” she gestures to a screened off area to her left. It takes a few minutes for assorted coats, gloves and scarves to be removed and safely stowed away. When the three of them are gathered back in front of her the elf explains that the only way to get to Santa’s Secret Grotto is to take a ride on the magic sleigh. She opens the door they are standing in front of and leads them through.

Guinevere is awestruck by what she sees – a sleigh and a team of reindeer waiting for her in a forest clearing. What Bernie and Serena saw were four life size model reindeer stood in two rows in front of three small benches. The benches have been placed inside an MDF framework designed to make it look like a sleigh. On the walls of the room on either side of the sleigh were, for want of a better description, two large floor to ceiling backdrops with a snowy forest scene painted on them. They were mounted on giant rollers, the material on each side forming a huge loop, decorated all the way round. It was clear to the adults that the giant rollers, when turned on, would ‘play’ the scenery on a loop giving an illusion of movement to the young visitors the experience was aimed at.

Guinevere stares at everything, not sure what to make of it, but happy enough to clamber onto the bench at the front of the sleigh once Bernie led the way and Serena offered a few words of encouragement. Once they were all settled on the sleigh the elf took up her place at the back of the sleigh. The lights dimmed to reveal the ‘sky’ above them was filled with glittering stars – gaining an “Oh!” from Guinevere. When the scenery started to move the little girl excitedly called out

“Giddy up!” to the reindeer. The elf laughed discretely and Serena whispered into Bernie’s ear 

“Some one has obviously been playing horsey with her far too much.” a hint of wry amusement on her face. 

The ride finished much too soon in Guinevere’s opinion and she said, rather forlornly “all gone.” as the scenery came to a standstill and the stars gave way to harsher light.

“That’s because we’re at Santa’s Secret Grotto.” The elf explains “You want to see Santa, don’t you?”

“See Santa?” the little girl questions.

“Of course, he’s waiting to for you just through here.” The elf leads the small group through the door at the opposite end of the room to the door they had come in through and they emerge into a small waiting area. The walls are painted with pictures of elves making toys, wrapping parcels and loading a sleigh. Ahead of them is an archway from which hangs a curtain of metallic tinsel like strips in shades of red, gold and green. The elf brushes it aside, explains that she’s just going to check that Santa is ready for them, and slips through the archway. Guinevere barely notices the elf vanish. She’s far too busy looking at the pictures on the wall, full of bright colours and cute elves.

It’s only moments before the elf returns from behind the sparkly curtain and says

“Santa is looking forward to seeing you. Come on through.” Guinevere seems somewhat hesitant. It’s been quite a lot already for such a little one. Serena gives her hand a comforting squeeze and tells her

“Can’t keep Santa waiting.” It isn’t much but it’s enough to reassure the tot and give her the courage to walk through the curtain clutching tightly to Serena’s hand.

The room they step into is cosy and warm. There’s a fake log fire that looks really realistic and is giving out a very realistic heat. Sat in a comfy armchair on a thick rug in front of the fire in a bright red suit with white fur trim is Santa himself. On a small table to his left is a plate of mince pies, at his feet is a large brown sack overflowing with gifts. Guinevere is busy taking in the scene when Santa speaks up.

“Who do we have here?” he asks looking at Guinevere kindly. Overcome with excitement and nerves she steps behind Bernie’s legs, leaving only her her head popping out the side, along with her hand still clutching onto Serena’s. 

“This is Guinevere. She’s feeling a little bit shy today.” Serena explains to Santa.

“We all get a little bit shy sometimes.” Santa says cheerily. “Tell me, Guinevere, have you been a good girl this year?” Guinevere hesitates a moment, but a reassuring smile from Bernie gives her the confidence to answer.

“I’m a good girl. I help Mummy.” she says firmly. “I’m not naughty.”

“No, you’re not naughty sweetheart.” Serena reassures her.

“Well, in that case I shall make sure that you’re on my list of good children to visit on Christmas Eve. What would you like me to bring you?” Santa asks.

“Baby Yoda” Guinevere says immediately, much to Santa’s confusion.

“Her Father is a big Star Wars fan. She’s been watching the Mandalorian with him, and she’s obsessed with “The Child”, or Baby Yoda as he’s known.” Serena offers by way of explanation.

“Ah!” says Santa. “I shall have to see what I can do about that. Would you like to come and pick a present from my sack to keep you going until Christmas?” An encouraging pat on the back from Serena is all it takes to give Guinevere the courage to for forwards and pick a gift from the overflowing sack at Santa’s feet. Her courage has obviously grown and she bravely wraps her arm around Santa’s leg, earning herself a gentle “Ho, ho, ho” from Santa. Positively beaming she toddles at speed back to her Great Aunts and hands the present to Bernie.

“For you.”

“But Santa gave it to you. It’s for you.”

“No. You.” the little girl insists with determination on her face that reminds Bernie powerfully of the look Serena has when she gets determined. 

“Are you giving me your present from Santa?” Bernie asks and is met with an emphatic “yes” from Guinevere.

“Well that’s very kind of you.” Bernie says as she slips the gift into her bag and sings the little girl through the air and into a hug.

“Would you like to follow me” the elf asks as she leads the way to a door at the far side of the room. Serena and Bernie, still holding Guinevere in her arms follow the elf through the door. If the room Santa had been sitting in had been a warm and cosy fireside scene, this room was a winter wonderland – complete with fake snow, fake snowmen, and twinkling snowflakes dotted around. Guinevere wriggled in Bernie’s arms and was immediately put down. She went, as fast as her little legs could carry her, straight into the closest snowdrift at the side of the room.

“Snow.” she announces as she touches the flakes in wonderment, letting it fall through her fingers, entranced by it’s feel.

“It is.” Bernie confirmed, gathering up a handful and letting it fall gently over Guinevere, much to the little girls delight.

“Snowman!” she squeals as she catches sight of a small model snowman with a large carrot nose and an oversize scarf. Guinevere doesn’t take long to make her way over and pat the snowman on what was, presumably, the equivalent of of his shoulder and pronounce him “a good boy”, much to Bernie and Serena’s amusement. 

It was at this point that Guinevere decided the snowman made a very good place to hide behind for an impromptu game of peek-a-boo. It was a good ten minutes before the tot tired of the game and, full of giggles, toddled towards the table in the centre of the room which was surrounded by elves, other children and their assorted accompanying adults.

In the middle of the table was a pile of very plain Christmas wreaths made of pine cones joined in a circle. Scattered up and down the table were all kinds of decorative possibilities; felt, glitter, glue, wool, pipe cleaners, sequins, anything you could think of. The elves were busily helping the children already there decorate their wreathes. It isn’t long before one of them offers Guinevere a wreath of her own to decorate. Once her clothes had been safely covered with a Christmas themed apron provided by a helpful elf she sets too, decorating with enthusiasm. Perhaps, more accurately, as she was only eighteen months old and it was a little beyond her skill set, Bernie and Serena set to decorating, whilst Guinevere made the artistic decisions as to what decorations should be used and where exactly they should go. It was a topic on which it turned out Guinevere had some very firm opinions. 

Around half an hour later Guinevere is clapping her hands in delight at the wreath they’ve made. Guinevere, it turns out, is a fan of bright colours and sparkles. The wreath is a riot of glitter and sequins, wound through with ribbons and pipe cleaners in vivid, clashing colours. Whilst Bernie and Serena are unsure about the artistic merits of their joint creation they are certain it has delighted Guinevere, so they class it as a success. Once Guinevere has returned her apron, said goodbye to the snowman there’s just enough time to nip to the Garden centre cafe – allowing the adults a much needed coffee and sustaining slice of apple and cider cake each. Guinevere, who has propped her wreath on the chair next to her makes short work of the snowman biscuit she is given, and drinks her chocolate milk delightedly from the ‘big girls glass’ it’s served in. Refreshed and, the adults at least, having topped up their caffeine levels, the next item on Serena’s festive day agenda is a children’s carol service at a local church. 

It’s a flurry of activity to get themselves and Guinevere back into their warm outdoors clothes (handed back to them by an elf as they’d left the marquee) and back into the car. They make it to church in good time, which is just as well because Guinevere is initially overawed by the huge old building and needs a little encouragement to go in. As she walks through the big oak door and into the candle lit church she turns from overawed to awestruck. She listens with rapt attention to the Christmas story, is delighted by the singing and the sound of the organ accompanying it and happily claps along with the music. She watches the older children, dressed in their nativity costumes with adoration – the angels with their sparkly halos and glittery wings proved a particular favourite. What really catches her attention though is the model stable in front of the altar, complete with straw and figures. Lexy, now fully recovered from being impaled by her own stained glass, had been taking the service. Once it was over she’d made a bee line for the three of them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” she notes once hello’s had been exchanged and Guinevere’s growth commented on. “I heard that the two of you worked things out. I’m very glad to see that it’s true.”

“So are we.” Serena says earnestly as Bernie beams at her.

“And how are you now? Over being hit in the chest by Jesus?” Bernie asks.

“Well, they say that God moves in mysterious ways. I certainly didn’t see that move coming or I would have got out of the way! I’m all healed up and nothing to show for my little adventure now – save for the scar – thanks to you two. I couldn’t have been is safer hands.” 

“Our pleasure.” Serena replies, seeing that Bernie is blushing slightly at the praise. 

“Did you enjoy the service?” Lexy asks Guinevere who has been standing quietly between her two Great Aunts whilst the adults talk. 

“I sing.” she announces proudly.

“Good for you!” Lexy says with a smile. 

“What’s that?” Guinevere asks, pointing at the nativity scene in front to the altar.

“Why don’t you ask your Great Aunts to take you for a closer look?” Lexy suggests. “I have to go and say goodbye to everybody else so just feel free to investigate” she adds for the benefit of the adults. Guinevere waves goodbye as the Vicar heads off to the church door to bid the rest of the congregation farewell. Bernie feels a tug on her hand. She looks down at Guinevere who says

“We go look now?” and reinforces the request with an extra vigorous tug on her hand.

“Ok, you lead the way.” Bernie says, only to find herself being tugged along in the toddlers wake before she’s finished speaking. The nativity scene provides a source of great fascination for Guinevere. It’s flooring of straw proves far too tactile to be resisted and Guinevere pulls up clumps in her pudgy hands. Some she lets fall from her fingers, and some she scrunches up, enjoying the sensation it makes in her palms. 

“Look!” she says excitedly, pointing at one of the models “Moo cow!”

“Yes dear, a cow.” Serena agrees. “What’s this?” she asks pointing at another model.

“Baa sheep!” The little girl exclaims excitedly.”

“That’s right.” Serena confirms proudly

“The lady ride the cow?” Guinevere asks, reaching out to touch the figure of Mary, only to have her hand caught by Bernie before it gets anywhere near.

“That’s a very good idea, but I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them.” Bernie tells her.

“No touching.” Guinevere repeats, adding a wagging finger for good measure. 

“Time to go home?” Serena suggests.

“For dinner?” Guinevere asks.

“Yes, for dinner.”

“Ice cream please” 

“We’ll have to see if we have any at home.” Serena says, knowing full well that she has at least three different flavours for Guinevere to chose from in her freezer. “Let Bernie help you put your coat on and we can go and find out.” she continues. Guinevere happily wraps up in her coat, makes her way without fuss to the car and allows herself to be helped up and strapped into her seat. She lets out a yawn as Bernie clips her in. It takes less than five minutes for Guinevere to drop off. Her little body is no challenge for the combination of overexcitement and the warmth from the car’s heater.

“Change of plan.” Serena announces to Bernie as she turns round to check on Guinevere and sees that she’s out for the count. “She’s fast asleep, She’s exhausted and she’ll sleep for a good while yet. Lets go to the Supermarket whilst she’s sleeping. It’ll save us having to go out tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan B to me.” Bernie concurs and turns the car around. The large branch of Waitrose that Serena favours is a fifteen minute drive from where the currently are. The journey home will take about twenty minutes. Add in a good half hour to trawl the shelves and even with a margin for safety they should be home well before Guinevere wakes up. She takes her naps seriously and much prefers that they last a good hour and a half at least. 

Almost fifteen minutes later, on the dot, Bernie pulls into a parking space not far from the supermarket entrance. 

“No point risking waking her up to take her round the shop. You get what we need and I’ll stay here in the car with her.” Bernie suggests.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s freezing out there and there’s heating in here. Besides, I’ve got the latest edition of the Lancet on my tablet to read.”

“OK love.” Serena says as she leans over and plants a kiss on Bernie’s cheek. “I won’t be long.” she adds as she slips out of the car and closes the door quietly behind her so as not to waken Guinevere. Bernie retrieves her tablet from her bag tucked behind the passenger seat, pulls up the latest edition of the Lancet and is soon engrossed in an article by a young South American medic comparing the way bullet wounds were treated in Columbia and how they were treated at King’s College Hospital in London, where he had completed a secondment. 

It’s almost an hour later when a click and a sudden gust of wind cause Bernie to look up from her reading. Serena has slipped into the passenger seat and stowed the two bags of shopping she was carrying down by her feet. 

“Sorry I was so long. The queues were massive. How’s Guinevere been?” 

“Not a peep.” Bernie reports.

“I’ll bet you haven’t looked up from your tablet once since I left, have you?”

“It had some good articles.” Bernie offers by way of mitigation, “and Guinevere was fast asleep the whole time.”

“Well, come on, lets get home while we still can.”

“What?”

“You hadn’t noticed it had started snowing, had you?”

“Has it?” Bernie says and looks out of the windscreen. There wasn’t a lot to see as Bernie had chosen to park in a spot bordered in front by a brick wall which had protected the bonnet and front of the car from the worst of the snow – not that Bernie would have noticed it anyway – Serena had been right. She hadn’t looked up from her tablet the whole time that Serena had been in the supermarket. A glance in the rear view mirror showed her that it had indeed started to snow. It wasn’t just a light scattering, the whole car park had a significant dusting and the sky was heavy with dark clouds that suggested there was more snow to come. Now she was looking Bernie could see that the snow was falling, if not thick and fast, heavily enough to make getting home more of a challenge than it would normally have been.

“You might have a point” Bernie concludes, switching on the car headlights and backing slowly and carefully out of the parking space.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not long before they realise they aren’t the only ones who’ve decided to make a break for home. The traffic is much heavier than it usually is and everyone is reduced to crawling alone to avoid slipping on the snow and ice. Everything is taking longer than it should, and minute by minute, the snow is falling, getting heavier and heavier, slowing things up more and more. The conversation between Bernie and Serena tails away into nothing, allowing Bernie to concentrate on the road ahead. The only sounds in the car are the occasional snuffles from the sleeping Guinevere and the swish of the windscreen wipers fighting to keep the glass clear of snow.

It’s a good forty minutes before they pull up on the driveway of their leafy semi detached. Serena watches the tension run out of her partners body. She knows that it can’t have been an easy drive. She also knows that Bernie would never admit that. She satisfies herself with giving Bernie’s thigh a quick appreciative squeeze. 

“If you take the shopping in I’ll carry Guinevere. If we’re lucky she might not wake up.” Serena, however, has spoken too soon, she realises, as a small voice pipes up from the back seat.

“I’m awake now.”

“Hello poppet.” Serena says, turning round in her seat to face Guinevere “Did you have a good sleep?” Guinevere doesn’t answer her. She’s too busy staring out of the rear window, looking a little confused at what she can see.

“Snow?” she asks.

“That’s right, it’s snowing.” Serena confirms.

“Shall we get you out of that car seat?” Bernie asks, “Then you can have a closer look.”

“Yes” squeals Guinevere excitedly. By the time Bernie has got out of her seat and opened the back door Guinevere has already undone the clasps holding her seat straps around her and is shrugging them off in her eagerness to get into the snow. 

“How long have you been able to do that for?” Bernie asks as she pulls Guinevere free from the seat and car and into her arms. The little girl shrugs in response. “Did you know she could do that?” Bernie asks Serena 

“No I didn’t.” Serena replies, just as surprised as Bernie had been. There’s no chance for the adults to discuss it any further because Guinevere starts wriggling in Bernie’s arms and saying

“Down please.” Bernie obliges rapidly and as soon as her little feet touch the ground she’s off. The snow on their driveway is a good inch thick. It’s obviously been snowing for quite a while out here. Guinevere wastes no time in thrusting her hand into the nearest snow.

“Cold” she says in surprise. It’s the first time she’s experienced snow in her little life. At Santa’s Grotto earlier it had been fluffy and light, this stuff on the ground in front of her is cold and wet. Instead of falling through her fingers like the show had earlier, this snow sticks; turns into water and drips from her fingers. She’s not sure what to make of it; whether to laugh or to cry, whether to keep playing or run to her Aunty Serena. It’s Bernie who makes her mind up for her. Bernie spots the confusion in Guinevere’s face and decides to distract her, and make the snow seem fun at the same time.

“Look!” She calls to Guinevere. As soon as she has the little girl’s attention she sits in the snow, legs straight out in front of her “I’m going to make a snow angel.” she says as she lays herself flat on her back and rapidly starts opening and closing her legs and flapping her arms up and down. For a few seconds Guinevere stares at her Great Aunt in amazement at this odd behaviour, but the ridiculous sight soon has her giggling away. Bernie grins back at the little girl and carefully clambers to her feet.

“Can you see what I’ve made? She asks and Guinevere stares at the dent in the snow.

“An angel!” she says excitedly.

“That’s right. A snow angel.”

“I can make one?” she asks.

“Of course.” Bernie says as Serena nods her agreement. Guinevere carefully picks a patch of clear, pristine snow and sinks to the ground. She flops onto her back and starts to wriggle, much to the amusement of Bernie and Serena.

“Move your arms like this.” Bernie advises offering an enthusiastic demonstration. Serena can’t decide which is more comical - Bernie’s example or Guinevere trying to imitate her. Guinevere is taking it all very seriously and does her best to copy Bernie. When she jumps up and turns round to look at what she’s created her little face beams with pride with what she sees.

“Look! Angel!” 

“It is. Well done.” Serena indulges her Great Niece.

“You know what else you can do.” Bernie asks as she stoops down to Guinevere’s level.

“What?” she asks

“This.” Bernie replies. Quick as a flash she throws the snowball she’d made without anyone seeing and hidden behind her back directly at Serena. It lands slap bang in the middle of her chest. For a split second there is absolute silence as Bernie waits to see how Serena will react and Guinevere waits to take her cue from what the adults do. Throwing most things is not allowed, she knows, but as Bernie was the one who threw the snow Guinevere wonders if might be something you’re allowed to throw. 

Serena lets out a laugh and declares

“You’ll pay for that!” and flings a hastily constructed snowball at Bernie, managing to catch her a glancing blow on the her side. Guinevere concludes that, if both of her Aunts are throwing the snow it must be allowed. With gleeful abandon she grabs handfuls of snow and flings them into the air, the finer points of forming a snowball illuding her. She’s not in the least bothered, in fact she’s shrieking in delight. Both Bernie and Serena are overacting wonderfully when she throws fists of snow in their directions, whilst carefully aiming their return fire so it lands just short of the little girl. When it comes to targeting each other though it’s very much no holds barred. They both have a competitive streak a mile wide. The air between them is soon humming with snowballs and rivalry. It feels like it’s been a epic battle lasting ages but in truth it’s barely ten minutes before the adults call it day. Guinevere would have been only to happy to continue but her Great Aunts have noticed that she’s started shivering and have decided that playing in the snow has to be shelved for the time being in favour of getting them all indoors and warmed up.

It’s Serena’s turn to sweep the unimpressed bundle up into her arms. Bernie retrieves the shopping and various other bags and random required items from the car whilst Serena distracts Guinevere from the lure of the snow by putting her overly furry hat on the tots head, much to her delight, and lets it slips over her eyes. Bernie makes her way to the front door to join them, scrabbling for her keys, attempting to find the right key for the front door and juggle everything that she’s holding. 

“Mine!” Guinevere says – pointing at the work of art that is her pine cone wreath. 

“It is yours,” Bernie confirms, “and very pretty it is too.”

“Up.” she adds pointing to the door.

“You’re up already.” Bernie says, not quite sure what she means. Serena comes to her rescue.

“I think Guinevere is suggesting that we replace our wreath with her artistic endeavours.” following the statement with a resigned shrug. Bernie, knowing that Serena isn’t able to deny her Grand Niece anything, removes their classy and understated holly wreath, props it against the wall to the side of the door, and replaces it with Guinevere’s extravaganza of colours and sparkles. The tot claps her appreciation.

Bernie opens the door, ushers Serena through ahead of her, follows after them with all the bags, and swiftly closes the door after them leaving the snow and cold outside.

Once they are safely in the warm Bernie is dispatched to the kitchen to put away the shopping and put on the coffee machine. Serena, deciding that in the circumstances it isn’t too early, takes Guinevere upstairs and changes her into her warm and snugly cow patterned onesie. They meet back on the sofa, Bernie putting the mugs on the coffee table in front of them and Serena putting Guinevere on the sofa between her two Great Aunts and covering her with a cosy blanket. Guinevere wriggles in tight and it it doesn’t take long for her to warm up and start fidgeting. Fortunately it doesn’t long for Serena and Bernie to finish their coffees either, so when Guinevere’s wriggling gets too insistent Serena is ready with a distraction

“Our Christmas tree needs some decorations. Would you like to help me?” Guinevere, it turns out, is more than happy to help her Great Aunties. The box of decorations Serena shows Guinevere is overflowing with sparkly, colourful and glittery objects and Guinevere is in heaven examining them all and attempting to decide where in the tree they should go. When they get to deciding what should take pride of place on the top. Guinevere is unconvinced by Serena’s star, and unimpressed with Bernie’s angel. Her imagination has been caught by an RNLI decoration and she’s determined that it’s going on top of the tree. She’s also determined that she’s going to be the one who puts it there. She’s clutching it tightly to her chest and it’s clear that she’s not going to hand it over any time soon. Bernie bows to the inevitable and lifts Guinevere up so she can reach the top of the tree and hang the decoration from the highest branch. With a little help from Bernie she manages to slip the loop of the little lighthouse onto the tree. It’s far from level and partly obscured by a branch, but Guinevere clearly thinks it looks wonderful, evidenced by her enthusiastic clapping as Bernie lowers her to the floor.

“Shall we turn the lights on?” asks Serena.

“Yes! Lights!” Guinevere calls out excitedly.

“Will you turn out the living room light?” Serena asks Bernie. The sun outside has all but gone down and when Bernie flips the switch the room is plunged into semi darkness. It doesn’t last long because Serena flips the switch by her hand and instantly the tree is ablaze with a riot of multicoloured lights. Guinevere is obviously delighted by this.

“Pretty lights!” she exclaims and starts jumping and dancing around on the spot in excitement. When she grabs hold of Serena’s hand and tugs she can’t not dance with her. Bernie watches them for a moment, then throws caution to the wind and joins them – much to Guinevere’s joy. The dancing becomes more and more outrageous and silly until Guinevere spins with a little too much enthusiasm and slips to the floor, bringing Bernie and Serena with her. The three of them end up in a pile on the carpet in gales of laughter. Serena cuddles Guinevere to her.

“I think we’ve finished decorating, don’t you?” she asks.

“All done” Guinevere confirms with a nod.

“Then all we need to do now is put the presents under the tree.”

“Presents!” the little girl squeals excitedly. Bernie disentangles herself from the other two, scrabbles to her feet and says

“I’d better go and get them then.” Whilst Serena and Guinevere get themselves up off the floor, Bernie makes her way to the sideboard and retrieves a bag full of gifts. With Guinevere's help they are soon safely tucked under the tree, if not especially neatly. 

“Lots of presents.” Guinevere notes.

“Yes. Lots of presents.” Serena agrees.

“For me?”

“Some of them.”

“We could give her one now.” Bernie suggests quietly to Serena.

“No we couldn’t.” Serena says back in hushed tones. “You know that they’ll turn to dust if you open them before Christmas.”

“Scrooge.” Bernie retorts with a smile.

“We can give her dinner though. Are you hungry sweetheart?” Serena asks her great niece

“Yes, very hungry.”

“That’s good.” Bernie says “because your Aunty Serena has been very busy cooking for you.”

“Shepherds pie?” Guinevere asks. It was a well known fact in the Campbell-Wolfe household that the fastest way to ingratiate yourself with the tot was to provide her with shepherds pie. Her fondness for the dish was dangerously close to an obsession. It had been one of Jason’s regular staples when he had lived with Serena, a firm favourite in fact, which had gone with him when he moved in with Greta. Later, when Guinevere had come along it had become a staple and favourite for her too.

“Come through to the kitchen and see.” Serena says and leads the way, Guinevere following closely behind her. 

The smell that greets them is nothing short of delicious. Serena had taken the opportunity earlier, whilst Guinevere and Bernie had been deciding where the fairy lights should go, to switch the oven on and dinner was now piping hot and ready to serve. Whilst Bernie sits Guinevere on her booster seat and pops a bib around neck. Serena lays the table as the carrots and peas cook. She pours large glasses of Shiraz for Bernie and, of course, herself. There’s a glass of juice for Guinevere, who is happily engrossed in making a mess of a breadstick. When a bowl of shepherds pie is put in front of her she loses interest in the breadstick in favour of the ritual of blowing on her hot food to bring it down to an edible temperature. Both her Great Aunts had been prevailed upon to assist and had vied to outdo each other with over the top huffs and puffs, much to the tots delight. 

“That’s enough.” she declares when her desire to eat overwhelms her desire to watch her Great Aunts pull faces. Guinevere, having a very independent streak, has insisted on feeding herself for a while now, and although she’s far from mastered the art, the vast majority of her food ends up in her mouth. The remainder clings round her mouth or drops onto her bib. She makes short work of her dinner, even though the portion Serena gave her was on the generous side. She finishes only shortly behind her Great Aunts 

“All gone!” she declares with a hint of triumph in her voice as she waves her spoon in the air.

“Would you like some more?” Serena offers.

“Ice cream please.” Guinevere asks with a smile so sweet it could melt hearts.

“She doesn’t forget a thing.” Bernie comments smiling indulgently at Serena. She knows what Serena has planned.

“Let me see what I’ve got. Maybe there’s some ice cream in the freezer.” Guinevere doesn’t take her eyes off Serena as she bustles about in the kitchen, opening doors, cupboards, doors and drawers. When eventually she comes back to the table she’s carrying a tray laden to its limits. Guinevere's’ eyes widen as she watches Serena put the tray down in front of her and starts to unload the contents. In addition to the three different varieties of ice cream there were more topping options that Guinevere had seen in her little life: chocolate drops, mini marshmallows, tiny meringues, fudge chips, hundreds and thousands, fresh bananas, strawberries and raspberries, not to mention the spray cream and the range of sauces including chocolate, cherry and caramel. 

“What would you like?” Serena asks as she puts a bowl in front of Guinevere. It transpires that what Guinevere wants is pretty much everything. The process of creating her individual sundae is a slow and painstaking business with each ingredient having to be added just so. Bernie and Serena have almost as much fun watching her excitement as Guinevere does making her pudding. There’s a tricky moment when the cream accidentally gets sprayed over Guinevere when she holds the can the wrong way round, but Bernie reaches forward, wipes a spot of the white foamy cream off her cheek with a finger and proceeds to pop it in her mouth and “mmm’s” enthusiastically. Guinevere’s threatened tears turn into laughter. More than happy with her creation she picks up her spoon and starts to eat. The tot could not have been happier if they’d placed a feast in front of her. In fact, as far as the little girl was concerned, it was a feast. Her bowl was overflowing, and, as the ice cream started to melt it’s journey from the bowl to her mouth became more and more perilous, and more and dripped between the two. It takes a good while before Guinevere admits defeat, and by which point she’s wearing, around her mouth, a quite a lot of what had originally been in the bowl.

“All gone!” she declares, in stark denial of the remains of her Sundae puddled in her bowl. Serena, realising that this is Guinevere’s way of telling her she was done with the ice cream, removes the remainder to the sink and returns with a pack of baby wipes. Guinevere makes a valiant effort to clean her face and hands, but it’s not a very successful effort. She is rather proud of herself nevertheless. Even so she submits to Bernie’s more thorough cleaning job. As soon as Bernie declares that she’s looking perfect she wriggles and demands to be set down, and Bernie obliges. The tot, with an ice cream fuelled surge of energy, makes a beeline for the living room. By the time Bernie gets there one of the dolls is being prepared for a visit to see Santa and Bagpuss is sat in front of a toy tea cup with a spoon resting in it. It seems that Bagpuss has earned himself his own ice cream sundae. Bernie’s arrival barely registers with Guinevere, she’s far too busy with her toys. Neither does she seem to notice when Serena comes into the room with two refilled glasses of wine and joins Bernie on the sofa and snuggles back into Bernie’s open arms. For a while they sit there in silence, sipping their wine and watching Guinevere happily replaying her day with her toys. 

“I think she’s had a good day.” Serena says finally. 

“Certainly seems that way.” Bernie agrees. “I can’t believe she’s still awake. Shouldn’t she be exhausted by now?” As if on cue Guinevere lets out a yawn.

“You were saying?” Serena says to Bernie, eyebrow raised. “Are you ready for bed ?” she asks Guinevere.

“Sleepy.” the little girl confirms.

“Shall we get you tucked in then?”

“Story first?” Guinevere asks, concerned.

“Of course,” Serena confirms with a smile. “What would you like me to read you?”

“Aunty Bernie.” The little girl says firmly.

“Looks like you’re up.” Serena tells Bernie, her wide grin showing that there are no hard feelings. “Even I have to admit your voices are better than mine.”

Bernie puts down her wine, uncurls herself from Serena and the sofa and makes her way to Guinevere’s toy box.

“What story shall we have? She asks her Great Niece. It takes a while, but Guinevere, with Bernie’s help, finally settles on a book about two mice preparing for Christmas and playing in the snow. Choice made Bernie sweeps Guinevere up into her arms. Holding the book in one hand she grabs the blanket from the sofa as she passes and makes her way to the window. It’s an elegant bay window, deep enough for what would have been the windowsill to have become a deep bench seat, topped with a comfy cushion and scattered with pillows. Bernie props herself up in the corner against a pile of fluffy and colourful pillows and settles Guinevere on her lap. The snow outside is still falling, albeit more gently than before. It’s the perfect backdrop for the story they’ve picked. Bernie tucks the blanket firmly round Guinevere to make sure she’s warm enough but Guinevere's attention is on the windowpanes. The mix of the warm interior and cold of the outside has caused a layer of frost to form on the inside of the glass. The beauty of the patterns, the swirl, star and leaf burst effects have caught Guinevere’s attention. She reaches out to touch it.  
“Cold.” she observes as her fingers make contact.

“It is cold.” Bernie agrees as she reaches out her own hand and draws a smiley face on one of the frosted window panes. Guinevere rapidly draws her own smiley face on the pane next to Bernie’s. It’s somewhat larger and more smiley than her Great Aunts. The little girl stifles a yawn and nestles back contentedly into Bernie’s lap. Rapidly removing the glasses she has hanging from the button of her waistcoat out of danger, she slips the heavy black frames onto her nose and opens the book at the first page. 

“So,” Bernie says, “Shall we see what this story’s about then?” Bernie puts her heart heart and soul into the reading; doing the range of voices, dramatic pauses, over the top reactions, the works. Serena, who has been watching, enthralled, from the sofa can’t help but smile to herself at this fun and caring side of her partner being given free reign. 

It’s not long before Bernie utters the words ‘the end’. There’s no response from Guinevere and Bernie goes to sit up.

“Don’t move.” Serena warns, “You’ll wake her up.”

“Wake her up? How long has she been asleep?”

“Since about halfway through the story.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bernie asks.

“You seemed to be having such a good time reading it I didn’t have the heart to stop you.”

“You were just getting a kick out of me doing the voices, weren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.” Serena admits with a grin. “Poor thing must be exhausted! Stay where you are. With a bit of luck I’ll be able to carry her up to bed and get her tucked up without her waking up.” 

Serena carefully gathers the sleeping Guinevere into her arms, managing not to disturb the expression of peace on her face. Bernie gets up from the window seat and stretches her back before she heads for the sofa, whilst Serena carries Guinevere cautiously up the stairs and into the spare room. The room has unofficially become Guinevere’s and is full of everything an eighteen month old could need or want. There’s not a murmur from her when Serena puts her down in the crib they’d brought for when she stays with them. She does nothing more than snuffle gently when Serena pulls the soft lilac blanket over her. When Serena drops a soft kiss on her forehead to wish her good night and sweet dreams she snuggles down with an adorable wriggle. Backing away quietly, not wanting to wake her now, Serena switches on the baby monitor, picks up the second unit, and creeps out of the room turning off the light and shutting the door as she goes.

Once she gets to the bottom of the stairs she decides she’s safe and calls out softly to Bernie

“She’s out for the count. Peace at last.” Bernie doesn’t respond, and as Serena steps closer to the sofa she sees that Bernie’s head is leant back on the head rest, her eyes are closed and she’s fast asleep. It would seem that Guinevere isn’t the only one exhausted today, Serena thinks to herself as she retrieves the blanket from the window seat and drapes it over her sleeping partner and sits down next to her. Bernie shifts slightly and Serena snuggles up to her, and covers herself with the blanket as well. If you can’t beat them, join them, she thinks to herself as she closes her eyes and drifts happily off to sleep.


End file.
